


On the Day of Her Birth

by Cythieus



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Byleth's Mom, Cindered Shadows Spoilers, Companions, Death, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Lost Love, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Past Relationship(s), Spoilers, secretive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:23:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22760155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cythieus/pseuds/Cythieus
Summary: ***CINDERED SHADOWS SPOILERS****Rhea leads Jeralt to his wife's body on her birthday, which also happens to be Valentines Day. Along they way they begin to work through twenty years of bad blood.
Relationships: Jeralt Reus Eisner & Rhea
Comments: 4
Kudos: 39
Collections: Fire Emblem





	On the Day of Her Birth

Jeralt wished the fact that it was the Valentine Feast Day never crossed his mind again. It was a minor holiday and had even fallen out of favor with the church in the last century or so. Most of the kids at the monastery would have no idea what it was if someone mentioned it to them. He wished that it could be an average day and that he could just ignore it. 

Yet, no matter how long he lived he would never forget that day, it held a different sort of importance for him. Every Valentines day he felt angry or on edge, it was definitely more of the latter now. 

He followed close to Rhea through the dark passageways, his torch held high, but he also instinctively hung behind her just a hair. It felt peculiar to have ever trusted Rhea. After two decades outside of her sphere of influence, the world of the Church felt more sinister and different. 

There was no way that he could have refused her offer, though. 

“Feels like we’ve been walking for days,” Jeralt said as he paused raise his torch higher and catch a glimpse of the ceiling. Dark stone arches were half covered by the rock, or they were part of the rock; the left over fragments of some long forgotten culture that walked Fódlan before anyone was there to write about it or even pass it along. He wondered how much Rhea knew about the past, how far back did her story go? 

“It’s not much longer now,” Rhea said. 

Jeralt touched the hilt of his sword, just letting his hand glance over it to make sure it was still there. This had all the makings of a trap. Rhea had come to him and sent his men on a mission, but told him to stay behind. Then she had asked if he wanted to see her. At first he hadn’t been sure what she meant. He thought that she was talking about herself and that someone had told her that Jeralt was looking for her. Then she said one word. 

_Sitri_. 

Maybe he should have told Byleth more of the truth. If things went south here, he would probably only be able to slow Rhea down. He would have to high tail it back to the surface and get Byleth awake so that they could make a break for it, couldn’t leave the kid behind, but definitely couldn’t stay in this place himself. 

There was a sound like falling water long before they reached the open air bridge that spanned a chasm. It was much longer than any bridge he had ever laid eyes on. There were glyphs etched into the surface. He didn’t recognize any of them. 

“After she passed I couldn’t bare the thought of her down inside of the cold dirt like that,” Rhea said shaking her head before turning to face him. “Sitri was such a…unique soul that it felt like a betrayal to give her an average burial.” 

Jeralt had never heard her speak this way about Sitri. He hadn’t even heard her utter the name since he had been back. He supposed that he was worse. Byleth knew nothing of Sitri other than that she had died giving birth. Even Jeralt didn’t know how true that story was. 

A fresh, damp smell filled the air from the water cascading out of the wall on the opposite side of the bridge. It must have filtered down through the rocks from some higher up source like a lake or river. It was hard to tell where they were below the monastery with how deep under the ground they had gone and how far they had walked. The Oghma Mountains stretched for miles in every direction and it would have taken several life times to explore them all. It was very possible an unknown source of water was near Garreg Mach. 

“I’m not sure what I’m going into here,” Jeralt said. 

“All will become clear in a moment,” said Rhea. 

_”That’s what I’m afraid of,”_ Jeralt wasn’t sure if he said it out loud or thought it. Either way Rhea didn’t react.

They moved over the bridge and to a wide hallway where a collapse had blocked the way. 

“Looks like the end of the line,” Jeralt said, his hand came to rest on the pommel of his sword. It was worn smooth in places with time, but he could tell which way the blade was facing just from how it felt. 

“No, this way,” Rhea, without turning to look at him, headed for the wall near the cave in. There was some kind of cloth held in place by rocks. She moved them expertly, as if she knew just where they were and how they sat. She even placed them carefully in spots where she would easily be able to recover them. 

“How come you don’t need a torch,? Jeralt asked. He had been thinking it all this time, but he had thought very much about Rhea and what she was. It seemed to be the least intrusive question he could have asked about her at this moment. 

“My eyes do not work like yours is all,” Rhea said. 

“Is that so?” 

“It is,” Rhea said standing up to her full height and turning to face him. “This way. Mind the flame—we wouldn’t want there to be another fire.” 

That was the first time that she let on that she knew, but Jeralt had suspected that Rhea knew more about his disappearance than she let on. They crawled through the space off to the side of the cave in and made their way back into the main hall on the other side through a hole with light pouring through it. The torch seemed woefully unnecessary now. 

Stepping out into the wide open space was almost blinding, white light streamed down through high stained glass windows though they were deep under Fódlan. His vision was marred by the light, but it the room around them slowly came into focus. 

Then he saw her. 

She was wearing a simple white dress with off an off the shoulder neckline, not something he had seen her in before. Her hands were clasped on her chest and her dark green hair was brushed down around her shoulders. Her skin was white, whiter than it had been in life, but she didn’t look quiet as dead as someone should twenty years on. You could be forgiven for thinking she was sleeping, perhaps dreadfully pale from illness. 

Though she was still as beautiful as the day he first laid eyes on her. 

The torch slipped from Jeralt’s grasp. He shambled forward, pulled and tugged by the sight of his long dead wife. 

“How is she…how does she still look?” He shook the words off. “What did you do to her?” 

“Nothing. Sitri is a holy relic, the same as the Sword of the Creator or…or Chalice of Beginnings. They are not of the natural world and thus are not prone to its corruptible nature.”

“You said you created her.” 

“I did. I poured all of my best into Sitri and perhaps that is why she was the way she was. No one could ever have loved me in the pure way you loved her—she is a part of me that couldn’t shine through anymore, the only way to give it life was to separate it.” 

Rhea wasn’t making any sense, but it didn’t matter. He made his way up to the altar and touched Sitri’s skin, cold, but not deathly so. He held his hand to her cheek, savoring the feel of her skin. He swore he could almost smell her perfume, hear the sound of her laughter. 

Behind him Rhea walked forward. “You brought something for her?” 

Jeralt nodded and went into her pack to pull out a bundle of pink flowers, the kind he had been placing at her grave for the last several moons. He pressed them down into her hands locking her grasp around them so they stayed secure. 

“Do you want to be left alone with her?” Asked Rhea, he could hear the jangle of her headdress from this close. She reached out and put a hand to his shoulder and despite all of the lies he had seen her tell over the years he could tell that in this moment she was concerned. 

“No.” Jeralt sat moved out of her grasp and sat down, resting his back against the altar. The stone floor had seemingly been carpet once, but that had worn away long ago. “I’m an old ass man now, I just want to rest here for a bit,” he chuckled. 

“That is understandable.” 

“Do you want to talk about her?” He asked. “Today was her birthday, 1139, heh, she would have been forty one.” 

Rhea knelt to dust off a spot on the stairs of the altar near Jeralt. . She sat down, her back against the altar down by Sitri’s feet and looked up the length of the stone table toward Jeralt. “I truly do miss her every day.” 

“I do too.” 


End file.
